


in which Petunia, Narcissa, and Molly save the Wizarding World

by lovepeaceohana



Series: Flashfic for Petunia [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU as heck, F/F, flashfic, ideally this will become a real piece in the future but for now it is what it is, outline
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-24
Updated: 2017-08-24
Packaged: 2018-12-19 08:22:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11893797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovepeaceohana/pseuds/lovepeaceohana
Summary: Petunia's a Muggle, and then she's not.





	in which Petunia, Narcissa, and Molly save the Wizarding World

**Author's Note:**

> I realize this style of fic-writing is gaining popularity on Tumblr, but I don't consider this to be a real complete work in and of itself. It's an outline of a longer piece I hope to some day have the time and dedication to write. It is related to the previous works in the series, and inconsistent with the second, and I do not currently have plans to change that until and unless it gets incorporated into a larger piece.

Petunia inherits Lily’s magic when she dies.

Minerva insisting to Dumbledore that yes, Albus, she’s sure, that’s Lily’s magical signature in that house, Dumbledore finding a wild-eyed Petunia sitting rigid at her table staring straight ahead and not looking whatsoever at the dancing teacups, the singing spoons, the kind of natural, wild magic that children create before they learn to control themselves.

She takes in Harry, of course, and grieves for her sister in tight, angry bursts, between twice the number of diaper changes and year-old tantrums. Albus arranges for Molly to come by and teach her basic household magic, an arrangement that is just plain awkward for everyone because Molly is so gregarious and outgoing and pretty, too much of all the things Petunia envied in Lily, and Petunia hurts too much. Vernon is still around, sort of, a lurking hostile presence riding all the edges of Petunia’s rapidly developing abilities; he’s out more often than he’s in, and then one day he comes home roaring that he didn’t marry a freak, swearing he’s taking his son and their house because goddammit he deserves a normal life, and Petunia stands her ground with her borrowed wand shaking in one hand and it’s the best feeling in her life when he turns tail and leaves, bellowing, babyless. She doesn’t start shaking until minutes after the peel of tires in the drive has faded, and Lily’s wand mysteriously stops working for her after that.

She meets Narcissa - crosses paths with, really - at Ollivanders. They make small talk about the strangeness of the people on the street outside the shop, Petunia relieved to find someone else as ruthlessly condescending about the sort of men who flap about in open spangled robes (even as new as she is to this witch business, Petunia is perfectly capable of being able to tell that hasn’t been acceptable fashion in quite some time), Narcissa totally intrigued by this woman who is, by her own admission, purchasing her first wand, and by what she overhears as Ollivander, lacking any sort of discretion or decorum whatsoever, babbles away about her being his first Muggle to get measured.

She does some digging. It isn’t hard, really, Petunia as desperate as she is for cultured company, and really, it’s no wonder the Dark Lord managed to get as far as he did if Dumbledore is going to leave such weak points as Petunia Dursley, née Evans, wandering around Diagon Alley without so much as a chaperone. Petunia is impressed with the Manor, but carefully, coolly, in a way that Narcissa finds gratifying and a little grating - she’s no idea the work Narcissa had to do, with the wards and the Inferi and the peacocks and all, to even permit her to step foot on the grounds. And yet, Petunia’s attitude toward what she feels is obviously a more proper sort of wizardry is… Refreshing.

Dumbledore is stunned into utter speechless when his next meeting with Petunia finds him face to face with Mrs. Malfoy, who will be taking over Petunia’s magical education.

The next few years are very, very interesting. The threat of Voldemort’s return looms very large in Narcissa’s mind, especially as Lucius begins to speak about retrieving some of his old things. She’s done with that, she has Draco to think about, the last thing she wants is some half breed mongrel madman running about playing secret societies - Narcissa has been in plenty, thank you, and it’s clear Riddle crafted his straight out of some role playing handbook. _Amateur_.

Narcissa eventually turns to Petunia with her concerns. Petunia agrees, quite right, and of course they don’t go to Dumbledore. Narcissa has misgivings but Dumbledore’s also the man who turned Petunia down the once, no matter how gently, no matter that he’s stepped in now and sees to it that she has what she needs to look after not only The Boy Who Lived (”His name is _Harry_ ,” she’s hissed at him, more than once, her own sister’s flesh and blood and this man apparently thinks little more of him than as a symbol) but also her own dear Dudley, who at four and five and six still displays no particular signs of magic and Petunia has so very many feelings about this that she suppresses, ruthlessly. No, they don’t go to Dumbledore. They work together, quietly determined. They bring in Molly Weasley to get into the places Narcissa can’t - the blood feud be damned, and anyway that’s between the Malfoys and the Weasleys, not the Blacks and the Prewetts, and these women belong to themselves and their children first and foremost.

Narcissa discovers the secret of the Horcruxes when Lucius gets careless with the diary and while she dances the high society scene keeping former and current Death Eaters distracted, Petunia and Molly spend hours searching and researching, taking childcare in turns or strapping them in and bringing them along when it’s safe enough: Hufflepuff’s cup in Gringotts, Narcissa holding tight to Draco’s hand and walking into her sister’s vault as though she’s every right; Ravenclaw’s diadem in Hogwarts itself, Petunia with Dudley and Harry in tow as she shows them the delights of the castle that she can finally, finally see.

Narcissa takes Petunia to the cave at the sea, and then to Grimmauld Place, after, both of them shaken, both of them crying and _needing_. It’s hurried and demanding and neither of them speak of it afterward. Not after they destroy the locket together, Lily’s pretty, distorted face shouting all of Petunia’s insecurities and demons right out loud for Narcissa to hear; not after they retrieve the Peverell ring and it opens gently in Narcissa’s hand, an infant’s cry echoing against her palm, and sobbing she destroys it; not after they lift the diary right out from under Lucius’s nose, and together they feed it to the ashwinders in the fireplace of his own study.

A mother brought Voldemort to his knees the first time round, and it’s mothers who keep him ever coming back, and when the Hogwarts letters come and there isn’t one for eleven-year-old Dudley, Narcissa is the first person Petunia turns to, the only witch in the world who has the motive and the means to do what needs be done. Molly makes their excuses for them to Dumbledore and covers for them so nicely while Narcissa quietly takes gold out of Gringotts and arranges the purchase of a remote, beachside cottage.

Harry, Dudley, and Draco never end up at Hogwarts. They grow up away from the infamy of the Boy Who Lived, away from the shadow of the Death Eaters, out of reach of a man who would tear their family apart with his good intentions. Petunia and Narcissa live together and raise their children and invent new spells and stories, and are sometimes sharp with each other, too raw in some places and too set in their ways in others, but always ready to begin again.


End file.
